


A Magical Place

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on what happens to Jemma after the finale. Disclaimer: this is not actually at all what I think will happen to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This should really be tagged "somewhere between mature and explicit" and "major character death(s) but none of them stick"

“Look, I know I’m not your preferred lab partner, but there’s no way of getting out of it, so we might as well just figure out a way to work together.”

The expression on Fitz’ face was some odd mixture of astonishment and confusion. “Why – why do you think that?”

Jemma sighed, blowing a piece of hair off her face. “Because I want to get a good grade, and I’m not going to let – ”

“No, I – I mean,” he shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Why do you think I don’t want to work with you?”

“Because you hate me,” Jemma reminded him, wondering if he really was the genius everyone – most loudly, he himself – claimed. 

“I don’t hate you!”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I don’t!”

“You never talk to me!”

“Because…because…because I don’t know what to say.”

And then it was Jemma who didn’t know what to say. Her jaw dropped open and she blinked a couple times.

“I…rather think we would quite get on,” he continued, a very red blush starting to splotch all over his face. “But I’m not…I’m not very good with…this.”

“What do you mean by _this_?”

“Um…talking.”

Jemma laughed. “Clearly,” she said, nearly drowning out Fitz’ quiet addition. When she realized what he had said, her eyes got wide as saucers. They matched his.

“What?” she breathed out.

He shook his head quickly, staring at the floor. She wasn’t sure it was possible, but his cheeks seemed even redder.

“What did you say?”

“Just…sorry.”

“You said ‘to pretty girls.’”

He winced, and Jemma felt a swell of something, an emotion she couldn’t quite put a label on. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

He looked up at her then, mouth gaping, as if he was surprised she would ever doubt such a thing. And then he grimaced again. Swallowing, he shook his head and looked back down. “Sorry,” he repeated. “If you want to request another lab partner, I – ”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she interrupted quietly, and he stopped talking immediately. “But I do think you should take me out to dinner, Leo.”

He shook his head quickly. Jemma felt her stomach drop. Oh God. What had she said wrong? She didn’t think she’d misunderstood – 

“No one calls me Leo except my mother,” he said. “It’s Fitz.”

“Oh.”

He met her eyes again, holding her gaze for what felt like hours. Finally, he spoke. “Do you like Italian?”

Jemma smiled. “I love it.”

And so began a relationship that made her want to pinch herself sometimes, unable to believe it was real. For so many years, she had felt so isolated, knowing no one truly understood her. But now there was Fitz, who not only followed her every scientific tangent and met her idea for idea as their creations became the future of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the envy of their fellow cadets, but he also loved _Doctor Who_ and secretly loved _Corrie_ too. Not only did he understand the pressure of being a prodigy, but he also understood the heartache and loneliness of being so far from home and loved ones, and the joy and excitement of this new life opening up before them. Not only was he the best friend she never really knew she was missing, but he was the best kisser she never really knew she wanted. And he made her want so much more.

They had gotten special permission to work on a project in the chem lab over Thanksgiving, when all their classmates had gone home and she and Fitz were stuck alone on campus. And Jemma really had every intention of working on said project. 

Just as soon as she got done testing her hypothesis about the sound Fitz would make as she scratched at the little patch of skin behind his ear and sucked on his tongue. Yes, she had predicted correctly, but she had forgotten to account for her own reaction to that sound – the shiver it produced and the way her knees buckled. How he pulled her closer at that, slotting his thigh between her legs. How she responded by – well, there was no other word for it – humping him. She could feel her heart pounding and her breath turning ragged and her pants getting wetter and wetter, but she couldn’t stop. For the first time in her life, she felt exactly like what she was – a horny teenager.

He tore his mouth away from hers and moved quickly to her neck, pressing his tongue against her pulse before sucking at her skin and starting what no doubt would be an impressive hickey later. 

“Fitz,” she moaned. 

He pulled away from her and stared wild-eyed. She felt disappointment at the loss, and so much desire at the look of raw, almost unbearable want on his face.

“Screw the project,” she managed to say.

He swallowed, breathed in deeply, and waited for her to say something else. His gaze roamed over her face, and Jemma licked her lips.

“And screw me instead,” she concluded breathlessly.

His eyes bulged. “Really?” he asked. He cleared his throat. “You want to?”

“So much. I love you, Fitz. I want to be with you.”

“I…I do too.”

Jemma nodded. She took a deep breath. And then she looked around the room. Not like this. She didn’t want her first time to be some quick shag in a lab. She wouldn’t say _never_ to that, but this time, at least, she wanted a bed and for all their clothes to be off, and for them to have all the time in the world. 

“Give me a few minutes,” she requested. “And then come to my room.”

He nodded rapidly, eyes wide and expression eager. Jemma smiled, then escaped his embrace.

When she was out in the hall, she laughed giddily, unable to walk in a straight line from excitement and turning to look over her shoulder at the room she just left. Of all the ways she had imagined losing her virginity, actually doing so with her best friend and first love and possibly the love of her life seemed too good to be true. And then she stumbled to a stop.

“But it isn’t true,” she mumbled. Because just then, a memory flashed into her head. A memory of Fitz, her best friend and only her best friend, rolling his eyes as she flirted with some bartender with low body fat percentage and a symmetrical face. Giving her a thumbs-up as she left the Boiler Room with that bartender. This, whatever this was, as right as it felt, was…wrong.

“Something’s wrong, something’s wrong,” she said to herself. 

Her vision went in and out, and for a moment, all she sensed was darkness and cold and the sound of a language she couldn’t recognize and the fear of never going home, never seeing Fitz again. 

Jemma stumbled a bit, tripping over her own two feet she was so distracted about the thought of what she and Fitz were about to do. And distracted by something else…

“Something’s wrong,” she thought aloud. Then, she remembered – the gas valve they had opened and the Bunsen burner they had never gotten around to lighting before she noticed just how hot he was in his goggles and had to do something about it.

She better go remind him to turn it off.

Jemma turned and took two steps towards the lab before the explosion knocked her off her feet. For several long beats, she couldn’t move. And then she sat up, dazed, coughing from the smoke, a loud ringing in her ears. She stared, not quite understanding, at the debris in front of her. And then she pushed herself to her feet, running frantically towards the rubble that had been the lab only minutes before.

“Fitz! Fitz, no! _Fitz_!”

There was no answer, and Jemma fell to her knees, sobbing. What had happened? That wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be together, he was supposed to be beside her through – 

She stopped crying abruptly, lifting her head out of her hands. 

“It wasn’t like this,” she murmured. And then she screamed, “It wasn’t like this!”

**

“How was the date?” Jemma asked excitedly, as Fitz walked into their shared flat.

He shrugged without making eye contact, dropping his keys into the bowl by the front door with a clanking sound. Jemma looked at her watch and her eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Fine,” he muttered unconvincingly. 

Jemma bit her lip, hesitating. “Really?”

“Yes, just – Simmons, please.”

She climbed to her knees on the couch, turning to face him. He ignored her, walking past her quickly towards his bedroom. 

“You’re just…back earlier than I expected.”

He sighed loudly. “I told you I didn’t want to go out with her. I don’t know why you made me.”

Jemma’s shoulders drooped in disappointment. Then she hopped off the couch and ran to the open door of his room. He was changing his shirt, and she tried not to notice yet again how he had filled out a bit since the Academy. How there was now just the most delightful hint of muscle there. How a trail of fine hair traveled down from his navel and disappeared underneath the button of his jeans. She licked her lips and then shook her head quickly, forcing herself to focus. Moving into their own place together after they left the tiny dorms for the brave new world of Sci-Ops had been more of an adjustment than she had expected. Thankfully, he pulled his t-shirt on over his head and let it fall to cover his torso. Good, not nearly so distracting in that raggedy old thing.

“I was just trying to help. I’ve seen how you look at her.”

“Well…” he paused, sounding slightly embarrassed. “Yes, Simmons. I’ve got eyes. But – ”

“And, Fitz,” she said, swallowing awkwardly. “I mean, she calls _herself_ Sure Thing Sue.”

He huffed, shooting her a quick glare before turning away. “My virginity bothers you more than it bothers me.”

“It doesn’t bother me! I just – I – I want you to – I don’t know.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to bed, OK?”

Jemma tried not to pout as she nodded. “OK. Good night.”

She left the room then, telling herself he did not slam the door behind her. He always closed his door extra, unnecessarily hard. Returning to her spot on the couch, she picked up her book and continued to read. Her foot did not start tapping after a few minutes. She did not have to reread the same sentence ten times. She absolutely felt no need to go back to Fitz’ room and ask what exactly the _but_ was that kept him from ever making any progress with the girls who were interested in him, sure things or not. She refused to admit that she hoped that _but_ was her.

Jemma groaned and tossed the book onto the couch next to her. She stood quickly, not allowing herself to think at all, and hurried over to Fitz’ room. She flung the door open and flipped the light switch.

“Fitz, I think we need to ta – oh my God!”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Simmons!”

She spun around, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling completely mortified. She heard him swearing inventively behind her, and the rustle of sheets as he attempted to cover himself. Honestly, though, the mortification was completely unnecessary – they were best friends, and and and self-pleasure was a completely natural activity and they were roommates now so a certain degree of privacy loss was to be expected and – 

“Fitz,” she began, her voice incredibly high-pitched.

“Get out!” was his only response, his voice even more screechy than hers.

Jemma ran away, making it to her own room in record time, and it was her turn to slam the door shut. She dove onto her bed, sliding across her bedspread and landing face first in the pillows and wanting to cry she was so embarrassed. Oh God, she’d never be able to look him in the eye again. 

Several minutes later, she was still rolling around in agony and, OK, maybe just a little bit of astonishment at how, well, how…how…just. She hadn’t expected him to look like that _down there_. But her mind went completely blank at the knock on her bedroom door. She sat up, twisting to face it, eyes wide. 

“Um…yes?”

“May I come in?”

“…Yes.”

He pushed the door open slowly, turning fully to close it again in order to, she suspected, have a few extra moments to prepare. And then he faced her again. His jaw moved a bit as he struggled to speak, and then, unexpectedly, he laughed. 

“See how I knocked and waited for you to respond,” he observed, gesturing back at the door sarcastically.

Jemma’s eyes closed almost against her will. “Fitz, I am… _so_ sorry. I – ”

“It’s OK,” he reassured her, walking over to sit next to her on the bed. “It’s – I mean, it’s not like you didn’t realize I…did that sometimes. And it’s not like I don’t know why you wanted to put a detachable shower head in the bathroom.”

Jemma blushed furiously. She blushed even harder when she confessed to herself that she had been taking far too many showers lately, and leaving the door unlocked in the hope that one day he might – no. They were just friends and lab partners that S.H.I.E.L.D. would someday write songs about and nothing could ever be allowed to ruin that. She just hadn’t been on a date in too long. She needed to stop thinking about him like that and that’s why he _needed_ to find someone already.

“Fitz,” she asked softly. “Why – I mean, why did you settle for that when you could have – ”

He sighed loudly and fell back onto her bed. His shirt rode up, revealing that little trail of hair Jemma had noticed earlier.

“God, Simmons,” he whined, rubbing one hand over his face. “Why are you so intent on pimping me out?”

“I just _want_ you to – ”

“Well, _I_ want to lose my virginity to someone I care about and trust and – and have a real relationship with and who won’t…laugh at me, not the first person willing to take it as some sort of trophy. And I think I should get to be the one who decides that, not you.”

“Did she laugh at you?” Jemma asked, aghast. She’d kill her. She’d – 

“No. No, just, I didn’t mean anything specific by that. I just – please stop pushing me, OK? Please stop setting me up with these frankly terrifying women. I know who I want and I can’t have her and until I get over – ”

He cut off abruptly, as if he just realized what he was saying. Jemma felt her heart breaking. “Who?” she whispered. “Who is it?”

He sat up again, laughing humorlessly and shaking his head. “Don’t act like you don’t know. For a secret agent, I don’t have much stealth.”

Jemma’s brow furrowed and she inhaled quickly. “Fitz, I don’t – ”

“I know you don’t, Simmons. It’s OK. I don’t expect you to feel the same way; I don’t expect anything. And once I figure out how to get over you, we can just – ”

“Me?! You…have feelings for me?”

He looked up at her, incredulous. “You didn’t know?”

Jemma’s brain was entirely empty except for a faint buzzing sound. And then she twisted sharply, placing one hand to Fitz’ chest and kissing him as thoroughly as she could, pushing him back down onto her mattress and straddling his waist as she leaned down.

“Jemma. Jemma. Jemma!” he protested around her lips, and she found the use of her first name far more thrilling than it warranted. “You don’t – ”

She stopped kissing him long enough to sit up straight and pull her top off with one smooth motion. His eyes glazed over and he went completely speechless and she grinned.

“Have to? Yes, I do. I think I’ll burst if I don’t. I’ve only wanted this for ages.”

“You have?!” His voice was almost as high-pitched as it had been when she walked in on him earlier.

And, she realized as she pivoted her hips over his crotch, other parts of him were returning to the state they had been in earlier, too. Rather dangerously quickly, to be honest.

“Fitz,” she asked, bending down to kiss him again even as she reached for the drawstring of his pajamas. “Do I count?”

“Huh?”

“Am I someone you care about and trust and – ”

“Yes, God yes,” he confirmed, both hands gripping tight to her hips as he rocked his own up towards her. 

Jemma chuckled, her hand finally sneaking past his waistband and grabbing hold of him. She stroked softly, secretly smug about the way he was already leaking out the tip and the way he squeezed his eyes shut and muttered incoherently.

“Fitz,” she said urgently. He didn’t, maybe couldn’t, respond, and Jemma felt a heady rush of power. She was hardly that much more experienced than him, but the way he responded to her, the way he obviously wanted her so badly, made her feel incredibly sexy. “Do you want to lose your virginity tonight after all?”

He nodded rapidly, licking his lips and forcing his eyes open to stare at her. The emotion burning in them almost undid her, even more than the lust fueling his movements. She just barely tightened her grip, and one of his own hands spasmed against her skin.

“Oh God oh God oh God. I can’t – this is too much.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean I was already…and now…” he tried to explain, sounding embarrassed, his head tilting uncomfortably as he looked at her.

Jemma nodded in understanding. “I should probably take the edge off.”

“Huh?” Fitz barely finished the question before Jemma pulled his pajamas down and over his hips. She leaned down, wrapping her mouth around him without any further warning.

“Oh,” he shouted, hips stuttering towards her. “Oh God, I – ”

Jemma took him deep and was only partly surprised as his release shot down her throat mere seconds later. She swallowed it down, then licked up his shaft, pausing to swirl her tongue around the head of his cock and wiggle it in the little slit at the top. He whimpered, and Jemma looked up. She smiled at the sight of him, a deep red flush spreading across his chest and neck and trembling hands covering his face.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “Sorry, I – ”

Jemma kissed his belly just above his cock and grinned. “That was the goal, Fitz.”

He panted a couple more times, then removed his hands from his face, tilting his head down to stare at her. She smiled again, and soon, his own smile was twinkling back at her.

“Now,” Jemma said, in the rather bossy tone that she knew Fitz mocked but secretly liked and now she wondered just how much he liked it. She rolled off the bed and stood, somewhat awkwardly. “The good thing is you’re 19 so you shouldn’t need much time before you’re back in the game.”

She was pretty sure he didn’t hear a word she said, considering how rapt his attention was as he watched her strip the rest of her clothes off. He made a little squeaking sound when she was completely naked, and his breath shuddered when she sauntered around to the other table and bent over to open the drawer. She looked at him sultrily, feeling that – for all she was putting on a show – for the first time she wasn’t pretending to be confident and sexy and completely drawn to the man waiting in bed for her. 

Once she found a condom, she bit it between her teeth and she crawled onto the mattress over to him again. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, his breath harsh and ragged. And then she glanced down and smiled. She reached one hand up, holding onto the condom wrapper as she tore it open with her teeth and then she removed the package. 

“Ready so soon?” she whispered.

He looked down in surprise, blushing again when she realized she was telling the truth. “Guess so,” he agreed, voice rough.

Jemma didn’t bother responding; instead, she moved quickly, rolling the sheath over his shaft and smiling at the way he moaned in response. She looked up at him once it was on, slowly stuck her tongue out and licked all along her top lip. 

And then, finally, Fitz seemed to snap. He pulled her into a desperate kiss, holding her close as he twisted them both around and pushed her back to the mattress. Jemma groaned, wrapping her arms around him and bending one knee up and over the crest of his hip. 

“Jemma,” he whispered against her lips, as his hands groped her aimlessly. “What can I – what should I – I want it to be good for you.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Jemma ordered, her head tilting back as he moved down to suck at her neck. “Pretty sure it will be.”

“I need to – are you ready?”

Jemma nodded rapidly, licking her lips. “So ready. So ready – just, go slow. Go nice and slow. Watch me, Fitz. Look at me.”

He did, forcing his head up and holding eye contact, staring at her intensely as he buried himself deep. He made a garbled choking sound when he was fully inside her, and Jemma reached one hand up, pressing at his mouth until he stopped biting his lower lip and kissed her instead.

“Now, move, Fitz,” she instructed as soon as they broke apart. “Move.”

He did, and soon thereafter Jemma’s eyelids fluttered and she couldn’t stop moaning. Like with everything else, he was a natural or at least an annoyingly quick study. She could feel her orgasm building, and she clutched to him tighter. 

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear, and she nearly sobbed with pleasure, with surprise, with relief.

With – with pain and regret and fear. Jemma shouted out in the darkness, begging nonsensically, just wanting to be free of this torture. Wherever she was, it was far, far away from the night Fitz had come home from his date, embarrassed and full of masculine pride at the things he had done with Sue, and she had cheered and teasingly toasted him with her glass of wine while eating the leftover dessert he had brought home for her. 

“Please,” she gasped out to whoever it was that had her. “Please let me – ”

“Oh God, Jemma,” Fitz sighed. “This is amazing.”

A breathless laugh escaped her, and then she finished her earlier request. “Please let me come,” she growled, twisting her head to catch his earlobe between her teeth. 

The plea was too much for him, apparently, and he rocked into her one final time, deep and hard and just enough to grant her wish anyway. The noises she made almost weren’t human as she trembled in his arms. 

They held each other close all that night, caressing and kissing and making love again and again. Jemma couldn’t believe that she had started the evening desperately jealous of Fitz’ date and trying to pretend that she encouraged it and ended the night naked with him. It was quite possibly the best night of her life. 

And in the bright light of the morning, instead of awkwardness and regret, there was calling in sick to Sci-Ops and making plans to turn his room into an office instead and giggling to herself as she heard him grumbling in the kitchen trying to make her breakfast in bed. He called out to her, playfully scolding her for not going grocery shopping even though it was her turn and promising to be back from the coffee shop on the corner in a few moments. 

When the doorbell rang sometime later, Jemma grinned and pulled herself out of bed. He probably had forgotten his keys, which wasn’t like him at all but was understandable considering the circumstances. She threw the sheet around herself and nearly skipped to the front door. The smile on her face fell immediately when she spotted the policeman standing in the hall.

“Good morning, ma’a’m. Does Leopold Fitz live here?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. “What – ”

“Are you family?”

“I’m,” she paused, cleared her throat, and wondered if she was lying when she said, “his girlfriend.”

The police officer looked down apologetically. “Miss, I’m sorry, but…there’s been an accident, a hit and run. I’m afraid – that is, there was nothing for the doctors to do. He – died instantly.”

Jemma blinked. And then she shook her head. “No,” she refused to believe. “No, because…he was just…this isn’t real.”

The man opened his mouth, and Jemma shouted over whatever he wanted to say. “This isn’t real!”

**

Her teeth were chattering and she was sure her lips were turning blue but she couldn’t stop laughing in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you jumped after me.”

“I can’t believe you jumped!” Fitz replied from where he was grumpily treading water. 

“I can’t believe you caught me,” she added.

He barked a laugh. “Me neither.”

They were silent for a long time, holding each other’s gaze as much as possible as they rolled back and forth with the large waves. She was getting tired, and she hoped the others arrived soon to fish them out. And as she watched him, clearly as cold and exhausted – physically and emotionally – as she herself was, she turned serious.

“Fitz,” she asked. “Why did you jump?”

He looked at her for a long time. “Because,” he finally said, pausing when he had to spit out some water. “If I caught you, I could save you. And if I didn’t, I – I wouldn’t have to live without you.”

“Fitz,” she responded, her voice breaking. “I would never want that for you. I jumped because I wanted you to live.”

He shook his head. “Not much worth living for without you.”

Her breath was unsteady from more than just the effort of keeping her head above the surface, and she felt like there was so much more there he wasn’t saying. She was afraid to prompt him and find out what it was. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, and then he blurted over her.

“I love you, Jemma.”

“I – I – love you too.”

He shook his head. “I’m in love with you. I don’t think I ever realized how much until those glass walls separated us.”

She exhaled sharply and almost slipped below the surface before she realized she had stopped moving. She swept her arms around and kicked forcefully to keep herself afloat. She swam closer to him, then lifted her hands to his cheeks and kissed him hard and fast.

The look on his face was one of total surprise with just a hint of bashfulness. “What did you do that for?” 

“Because…I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, but I’m looking forward to finding out.”

He slowly started to grin, and Jemma smiled back at him. “My hero,” she added.

At that, she nearly drowned again as a vivid memory – was it a memory? – struck her. She could see perfectly Ward reaching out to her across the blue blue blue sky and later, in Fitz’ bunk, sitting next to him and reassuring him and kissing his cheek in a friendly, only friendly and no one could get her to admit otherwise, way.

And then she could see perfectly tubes and all sorts of gadgets hooked up to her, beeping. Monitors spitting out some kind of fuzzy output on tech she’d never seen before. She gasped, feeling dizzy, her throat too raw to scream anymore. A feeling of hopelessness and terror descended over her.

A feeling of hopelessness and terror descended over her then, as suddenly the antiserum injector slowly rose out of Fitz’ shirt pocket. He stared at it, seemingly unable to understand what it meant. But Jemma knew.

“Fitz. Fitz, grab it before it – ”

He did, following her instructions without question. 

“Now inject yourself,” she added. 

He glanced up at her, finally understanding. “With what?” he asked, clearly afraid. “There was only the one dose left.”

Jemma exhaled sharply, and she struggled not to cry. “No,” she said, disbelieving. “No.”

“Jemma,” Fitz said, suddenly firm. “Swim. Swim as fast as you can away from me. When the pulse comes, I don’t…”

“No! I won’t leave you. We’ll just – they’ll be here any second and we’ll make more.”

“Jemma, please.”

“You have hours, Fitz.”

He shook his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t. I could have been infected at any time. Please, start swimming.”

Jemma was full-on sobbing by then, and she didn’t even notice the sound of the helicopter at first. It was practically on top of them before she and Fitz both looked up in relief. A man she didn’t recognize was leaning out the door, holding his hand out, and she nearly fainted, she was so happy to see the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the side of the craft. 

“Her first!” Fitz shouted.

She looked at him again, shaking her head. Before she could argue, he nodded at her. “I’ll be right behind you,” he promised. 

She took a deep breath, then looked up to the man in the chopper again. She reached up as high as she could, her fingers just brushing his for a moment until he grabbed her hand properly. Her arm felt as if it were being pulled out of her socket as he started to lift her, using the buoyancy of the water in support. As soon as she crawled, groaning and dripping wet, onto the floor, she turned to face Fitz again.

“Now him,” she demanded, “Get him.”

But Fitz’ face looked rather sickly and pale, and he shook his head. He flopped backwards, attempting to swim away. 

“Get away,” he shouted. “Get away fast. I’m about to – ”

Jemma was speechless and frozen, but the man next to her wasn’t. He immediately turned to the pilot and ordered him to fly up and away. And then Jemma could move. She turned on him, whoever he was, and pounded at his chest, screaming nonsense and curse words. But she couldn’t focus on that for long, and she turned again, dropping to her knees as she faced Fitz.

He smiled bravely, even if a bit wobbly and forced. “I love – ” he shouted.

He never finished his statement. Instead, he seized up and a bright blue light pulsed out from him, and Jemma vomited up all the seawater she had accidentally swallowed as she saw his – his body slowly rise out of the water. 

“Noooo!” she screamed, once she was able to breathe again.

She fell to her side, unable to believe what had happened. And then she blinked. “No,” she murmured again. “Because…” 

Because it hadn’t happened. It hadn’t. There was more to their story. More days in the lab. More days of friendship and, as she had realized later, pining. More fear and excitement in the field. Another day where there was blue all around her and a man reaching out from a helicopter. A different day where she had saved Fitz just as he had saved her.

**

Jemma smirked when she caught a glimpse of Fitz’ expression out of the corner of her eye. She might have been bad at improvisation, and it turned out, even worse when she had tried to prepare, but at least she wasn’t currently speechless and fumbling with the conductor like he was. She hadn’t realized just a little peck on the cheek could affect him so much.

She hadn’t realized she could affect him so much.

She focused back on the conductor. “It’s our anniversary,” she explained.

“Ah, young love. So beautiful.”

“Yes,” Jemma agreed, leaning forward conspiratorially and smiling widely when she felt Fitz’ fingers tangle through her hair. “Yes, it is.”

Later, Fitz was anything but speechless as he complained loudly. “You’re the least supportive pretend girlfriend I’ve ever had,” he concluded his rant.

Jemma couldn’t stop grinning. It felt like something had shifted, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what, but things finally seemed…right. That last piece of the puzzle of her and Fitz was in reach, and she just – she needed – she turned to him, pressing him up against the wall of the train.

“How about…” she began, before suddenly losing her confidence.

His brows were raised in confused surprise, and his chest heaved with nervous breaths as he fixed his eyes on hers.

“What…Simmons, what?”

“How about, after this is over, we see if I’m any better at being a real girlfriend?”

He stared at her for a few more moments, gobsmacked, and then he started to smile. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Jemma pushed off the ground, lifting up on her toes so she could kiss him properly, but before their lips could meet, someone burst into the train compartment. 

“Oh my God!” she yelled.

“Oh my God!” she yelled. “What’s happening – what – what – what do you want?” There was no answer, and Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop her sobs. Why wouldn’t they just tell her what they wanted? Why hadn’t the team rescued her yet?

Before the man could attack her or Fitz, the door opened again; it was Skye to the rescue. She wrapped her arms around the bad guy, in a grotesque mockery of a hug, and was knocked off her feet moments later by the grenade blast. Jemma rushed over, confirming the blue haze meant it was just dendrotoxin and that Skye was still alive. She looked up at Fitz, nodding with a smile, and he sighed as he nearly collapsed in relief. 

Things happened fast after that, and once they realized they had lost comms with the others, Jemma and Fitz resolved to finish the mission they had started. They were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents; they could do it. Outside the house, they stared at each other probably longer than necessary, and they gripped each other’s hand. And then they separated, Fitz heading towards the entrance to find the tech Quinn had purchased and Jemma to disable the vehicles.

The next time she saw Fitz, he was bloody and pale on the ground. Coulson knelt next to him, holding his hand and speaking with an urgent tone, practically ordering Fitz to hold on. Jemma felt useless, like her fingers were too thick and clumsy to do anything. And in the end, there was nothing she could do, except hide in the supply room and try to wipe the blood off her hands while she cried. She wished someone – wished Fitz – was there, holding her, comforting her, just like he had so many times before.

Just like, she realized with an astonished sniff, he had before, when it was Skye’s blood on her hands, Skye who had been shot, not Fitz. She looked around the room, not understanding anything.

**

“I thought we were dead for sure, Fitz. We’re so lucky! Now we just need to figure a way out of here.” He didn’t respond, and her optimism started to falter. “We’ll find a way out of here, right?”

He breathed in and out. “And then we’d be in the middle of the ocean with the bends and no flotation and no one looking for us. I already spent – ”

“Stop. Just stop, Fitz. We’ll figure something out, like we always do.”

He looked at her then, eyes shiny with tears but a tiny reluctant smile on his face. “Together?”

Jemma nodded. “Together.”

Immediately after that, she had the biggest surprise of her life, and that included discovering Ward was Hydra and – clearly – willing to kill them. She forgot about all that, though, when Fitz stepped forward, put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her. It was hard and desperate, but strangely sweet. When he pulled away, the expression on his face was one of terror, and he seemed more afraid about what he had just done than he’d been about the dire straits they were in and their probable imminent demise. Jemma felt dumbfounded.

“What…?”

“I just…I wanted to do that once. To see how it felt. I’m sorry.”

“I could slap you right now, Leopold Fitz,” Jemma managed to say.

He cringed and stepped farther back. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha – ”

“Why on earth did you wait until _now_ to do that?!”

It was his turn to be dumbfounded, and Jemma let him gape for a moment or two. And then she flung herself at him. Neither one spoke again for several minutes, and when they finally pulled apart, Jemma was breathing heavily. She felt like she was possibly sucking all the air out of the enclosed space, but she couldn’t control herself.

“We should,” he mumbled, eyes still closed. “We should…figure out how to get out of here.”

“Later, Fitz. If we run out of time, I want to make sure we’ve done this first.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her, vulnerable and hopeful. “Done what?”

Jemma smiled and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Fitz got the picture very quickly. 

Inspiration struck, as inspiration tends to do, as soon as she was no longer fixated on the problem. The only thing she was fixated on at the time was the feel of Fitz’ arms around her, his lips on her neck, his cock inside her. The sounds of pleasure and sweet nothings she couldn’t quite make sense of interspersed with her name over and over again. The rough scratch of his shirt against her bared skin. The morbid joy of knowing that he’d rather have this, have her, than save every breath of air in order to fight desperately for survival. Jemma groaned, her head tilting back and her eyes just barely open. And it was then she spotted the window. 

“Fitz,” she gasped. 

“Oh God, Jemma,” he breathed, pressing inside her just right. She nearly forgot what she wanted to say.

She shook her head quickly, biting her lower lip against the pleasure, and tried again. “Fitz! The glass. The seal.”

He moaned, his cheek sliding along hers. Several seconds passed before he could speak. “Flash point – “ he choked out.

Jemma nipped at his shoulder, scratched her nails down his back, and shook her head again. “Ethanol.”

He pulled away from her then, propping himself on his elbows to stare down at her. Jemma shuddered at the change in his angle of entry. She was unbelievably close.

“Burns hotter,” he whispered.

“ _So_ hot.”

“We could – ”

“Blow the window in!” she shouted unintentionally, as his last thrust pushed her over the edge.

“Yes, yes, yes, _yes_!”

Even knowing they had precious few minutes, they spent the next couple of them, at least, coming down from the high and staring into each other’s eyes. Jemma looked down, enjoyed the sight of them still connected. She frowned when he pulled out, severing that connection. She hoped not for long. 

They moved quickly then, setting up the explosive. Maybe it was the orgasm talking, but Jemma felt more optimistic than she’d had since she’d woken up and seen him sitting there, staring down at her, his arm in a sling and – 

His arm in a sling, injured. It hurt him when he jumped in excitement after they had figured out their plan. Only now it wasn’t injured. Now he was perfect, healthy and whole. He had used both arms to disrobe her just enough as necessary, to cling to her as they moved together, to support himself as he – it made no sense.

Nothing made sense. She had no idea how much time had passed, how many different voices she had heard going in and out of the space they held her in, how frequently they had checked on her, how many days it had been since she had seen Fitz and he’d stumbled through a dinner invitation. The despair crashed in waves over her, and she choked for air. It felt like the wind was knocked right out of her.

“The wind’s gonna be knocked right out of us,” Fitz explained, before continuing to describe his plan. Jemma stopped listening to him halfway through and began to argue with him instead.

“No! I’m not leaving you here. That’s ridiculous. We need a new plan.”

“We’re not discussing it, okay? You’re taking it, end of story…I couldn’t live if you didn’t.”

“Well, I feel the same way!” Jemma countered. She hadn’t realized exactly how much that was true, but now that they had been together, now that there was so much promise for the future… “There has to be another way.”

“You’re taking it,” he said firmly.

“Why? Why would you make me do this? You’re my best friend in the world!”

“Yeah, and you’re more than that, Jemma.”

She had no idea what to say, no idea how to make him realize that, really, he was more than that too. She just wasn’t able to make confessions like that, not like he could. She wasn’t as brave as him. And while she struggled with that, he somehow got the upper hand in their argument. Before she knew it, he was giving her a pained yet sure smile and turning to punch the button. Jemma screamed.

Sometime later, when she woke up with a start in the hyperbaric chamber and saw Nick Fury standing next to her, she asked about Fitz. Fury’s hesitation, the way he couldn’t meet her eyes, and the stiffness of his shoulders were enough to confirm the pit in her stomach that had appeared when they broke through the surface and she saw Fitz so pale and unresponsive. She screamed again, sobbing. She didn’t stop until the helicopter landed. By the time the others arrived at this new base, the Playground, she felt completely numb. 

“Fitz?” Skye asked. “Is he OK? Please tell me he’s OK.”

The answer “He’s alive” was on the tip of her tongue, and she nearly choked on it. Her brow furrowed in confusion. But of course he was. He had survived, against all odds. After the worst nine days of her life, he had opened his eyes and blinked back at her. So why on earth wasn’t he on that bed where he belonged, hooked up to all sorts of monitors beeping with so much hope?

**

Jemma felt her heart shattering into a million pieces at the look of confusion and fear and deep, distrustful hurt. She didn’t regret leaving him; she’d do it again a million times over if it had anything to do with the fact that he was standing there in front of here, clearly healed so much.

“Is it really you?”

The question was unexpected, and she forced a laugh to cover her shock. At least she did the first time he asked it. After the second, third, fourth time he didn’t seem to truly accept she was there, she just wanted to cry.

“Fitz, why do you keep asking me that?” she finally made herself say, one day when she had walked into the lab to find him alone and he stared at her for two whole minutes, jaw lax, until she couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t – I don’t understand. What makes you think it isn’t me?”

“Because,” he said, bitter as usual. “You weren’t real before.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she responded, exasperated. “Do you mean you don’t believe I was your friend? Because I _assure_ you – ”

He waved his good hand to silence her. “No. No, I mean…I saw you. I saw you all the time. You talked to me. You – I lost my mind, and it was all your fault.”

Jemma inhaled a sharp, shuddering breath. She couldn’t speak.

Fitz shook his head. “That isn’t fair,” he admitted, scolding himself. “You – you helped me. You encouraged me. I…” He trailed off, scratched at his brow as he avoided her eyes, and then turned toward the door as if he were about to leave.

“Fitz!” Jemma called out urgently, reaching to grab his hand before he could escape. She still felt guilty, more than she could possibly say, but at the same time, his confession that she had helped him after all had changed everything. 

Maybe it wasn’t her, exactly. Maybe it was just the idea of her. But somehow, knowing he clung to her, knowing he relied on her – or a figment of her, at any rate – gave her hope.

Now, though, he was simply staring at where their hands were clasped together, and his breath was quick and shallow.

“All I wanted,” she said, pausing to swallow past the lump in her throat. “All I wanted was to help you.”

He lifted his eyes and stared at her for a long beat. “You did. You’re the only thing that makes me better.”

A metaphorical record-scratch snapped Jemma out of the moment as she remembered someone else – Mack – saying those words – no, not those words. Their exact opposite. Standing in the hangar, wringing her hands together, wanting to sincerely thank him for all he had done even as she wished it was his neck she was wringing for stealing her spot as Fitz’ best friend. And yet, she was also feeling secretly thankful that someone finally understood. She knew that this man, who seemed to understand so much, would believe her when she admitted the truth. Even still, she hated him for seeing right through her and telling it like he saw it, stating all the things she didn’t want to believe were true.

She didn’t know where she was, or who had her, or what they wanted. Nothing seemed real, and she refused to believe it. It didn’t make any sense. It had to be in her imagination. It had to be. It _had_ to be.

“I knew you were only in my imagination,” Fitz continued, turning their hands around to intertwine their fingers. “Even then, you were still pushing me to be the best I could be. Just like you always have.”

Jemma grinned. “We’ve always brought out the best in each other.”

Fitz smiled back at her, and they stared at each other for what felt like ages. And then, they let go of each other’s hands, returning to work but knowing there was so much more looming, waiting, ready for when they finally decided to reach out and take it. Jemma felt giddy with relief and expectation and hope. 

And yes, quite a lot of fear and worry when, days later, he suited up for his first time back in the field. Jemma drew upon every bit of strength she had, every iron piece of will that helped her survive her time with Hydra. He stepped over to her, framed her face with his hands, and kissed her. Jemma smiled back, ignoring the stunned expressions on Trip’s and Skye’s faces. 

Hours later, those expressions were still present on their faces but for an entirely different reason. Jemma didn’t believe it when they told him about the gunshot and Skye’s father and – no. No. She looked desperately around the small lab room, hoping to find him hovering off to the side awkwardly or elbows deep in tech or smiling at her from his bench. She would have settled for just some projection, some product of her imagination and grief and longing. 

But there was nothing. Nothing but Skye hesitantly reaching out towards her and Trip watching her cautiously, covered in Fitz’ blood.

No. No, it had been the other way around. It had been Trip who was shot, and Fitz who told her about it awkwardly – in part because she could tell he thought she still had some sort of feelings for Trip and in part because every interaction they had was still awkward, a result of so many things still unsaid. Jemma shook her head, blinking rapidly. It had been Trip who’d been shot, but they had all lived to see another day. She was sure of it.

**

“Fitz – ”

“Don’t worry, Jemma,” he said petulantly. “I can do this. I’m not afraid.”

She watched him as he walked away, then she sighed and fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Fitz.”

He paused, looked around, then nodded once. “Yep. That way.”

Jemma pressed her lips together and swallowed, filled with a sudden terrifying premonition that she might never see him again. Not that – even if she did, he’d still be leaving her in the end. She hated this. She hated everything about how they were now, and she couldn’t let him head into danger alone with everything so unsettled between them. She glanced at Trip quickly, then ran to catch up with Fitz.

“Simmons!” Trip called after her.

“Just – hold on! I’ll be right back!”

She had to turn two corners before she caught up with him. “Fitz!”

He turned in surprise, and just a little anger. “Jemma, what – you should go with Trip. I told you I – ”

“Can do this by yourself, I know. And that’s fine, if that’s what you want. Just be careful, please.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked off to the side. But before he could say anything, she reached out and awkwardly grabbed the front of his hazmat suit in her fists. He faced her again in confusion, his suddenly quick breaths fogging up the plastic screen covering his face.

“Be careful,” she repeated. “And come back.” He opened his mouth to reply, and she forged ahead, finding the courage to say the rest before she could chicken out of it. “Come back to the lab. Come back to – me.”

They stared at each other, and finally Fitz nodded. “OK,” he whispered, barely audible through the suit; she read his lips more than anything.

Jemma smiled, blinking rapidly against her tears. 

“Jemma! Come on, girl!” Trip’s voice echoed through the halls, and they both jumped.

“We gotta – ”

“ – running out of time – ”

“ – be sure to hurry – ”

“Be careful,” they both instructed at the same time. Jemma laughed once, sharply, and then ran back to Trip. She wouldn’t risk the time needed to turn back to look at him; and she hoped he didn’t either. 

Unbelievably, they managed to set all the timers and make it back out of the tunnel. Even Fitz, which made Jemma sigh with relief as she helped him climb over the edge. He didn’t let go of her hand quite quickly enough to be natural, and she hid a smile. 

That smile was soon lost, though, when they learned that Skye and Coulson had gone down there. There were only moments to spare. Trip was already moving, though, struggling with uncharacteristic clumsiness to get his harness back on. Fitz turned to her; deep down, Jemma knew what he was about to say but she wouldn’t accept it. She shook her head quickly. 

“No. No, Fitz.”

“I have to go now, if there’s gonna be any chance.”

“No, Fitz!”

“I’ll come back. I promise.”

Her face crumpled as she tried not to cry. Fitz moved then, tugging the rope once before jumping down the hole. She sobbed then, not even registering Trip’s shouts for him to stop. Even as Jemma fell to her knees and clung to the edge of the opening, though, she knew something felt wrong. She could remember so clearly the feel of Fitz’ arms around her as the cavernous room shook and debris fell all around them. She could remember Trip going back in and Fitz and her left behind, shouting ineffectually. She didn’t understand how she could remember all that, and still be stuck here, desperately waiting for him to keep his promise.

She didn’t understand why he hadn’t found her yet. Of all the people who would be hunting for her, who would tear down every wall and barrier to come get her, he would have been leading the charge. Had he stopped searching? Had he stopped caring? Jemma turned her head to the side, too exhausted to cry and too distraught to scream anymore. She needed him. Why wasn’t he there?

Why wasn’t he there yet? It was taking too long. Every second that passed was one second too close to when the explosives would blow. She looked frantically, desperately, between Trip and the hole, willing Fitz’ head to appear, hoping Trip would offer to go down after him soon and praying that he wouldn’t be too late and fearing that he would go and they’d both be lost. 

But in the end, it was only Fitz lost. Jemma couldn’t quite understand when a sobbing, trembling Skye held her in a tight hug, choking out apologies. Eventually, though, she managed to piece all the fragments together. How he had, as they had already realized when no explosions occurred, disabled all the timers. How he hadn’t returned then but went in search of Skye and Coulson instead. How he had found her just in time for a large door to close and block him and Skye and Raina from the others. How the Diviner had changed in front of Skye’s eyes, how it had changed her. And how she had just come back to herself in time to see Fitz turned to crumbling stone. 

Jemma was devastated. For days, she didn’t leave her room, locking herself in a self-imposed quarantine and…

Quarantine.

Where Skye had been. Where Skye had mourned Trip and hid her powers from all of them. All of them except Fitz, who figured it out and kept her secret, even – damn near unforgivably – from Jemma. She sniffled and pushed herself up, propping herself on one elbow as she looked around the room utterly perplexed.

**

“Dinner.”

“Fast approaching, yes, and we’ll eat it, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, no, no, no. But, uh…me and you. Maybe we could eat – somewhere else, you know? Somewhere…nice.”

Jemma paused, looking up as she realized what he was asking. “Oh,” she managed to say with an awkward sort of nod. 

He stumbled, and then tried to play it off coolly, and she fought a smile. “Good. OK. I’ll, I’ll start working on options to run by you…for that.”

“And I’m going to change into nicer clothes. Find someplace fancy, Fitz.”

He stared at her for a beat, perhaps a bit alarmed. “You want – you want to go somewhere fancy?”

Jemma shrugged, suddenly finding her ability to flirt again. “Well, Fitz,” she explained slowly. “It’s a somewhat patriarchal notion that the swankier the restaurant, the more likely it is that you’ll get a kiss at the end of the night. I just want to make sure I’m following all the right social norms.”

He swallowed thickly, and Jemma licked her lips and then breathed in deep, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

“Well…who am I to fight the system?” he finally said. “I’ll even wear a tie.”

“Good,” Jemma said. “I miss you in ties.”

And with that she brushed past him, waiting until they were no longer facing each other before ducking her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She couldn’t quite believe she had just more or less propositioned Fitz. She was pretty sure they both knew more than a goodnight kiss was on the table. She blushed again as she began to think about all the different things she could do with one of his ties. Ooh, she hoped he wore a blue one, one that would bring out the color of his eyes.

She turned to tell him that, not wanting to leave it up to chance. But all she managed to say was a squeak of surprise as she watched the rock dissolve, burst through the door containing it and – there was no other way to describe it – suck Fitz up. In the moments before he disappeared, they made eye contact and she could see the terror on his face.

Jemma couldn’t move for one horrible, horrible moment, and then she dashed back inside the room. The rock remained motionless, and if she hadn’t known better, there would have been no way to tell anything had happened. Jemma moved cautiously, clinging to the walls as she made her way closer. She didn’t want to be taken too. 

She stopped suddenly. She had been taken, though. It had been her, not Fitz. It had been her.

Jemma bolted upright, gasping for air as she looked around the room. It took her a moment to figure out what she was seeing, and then she realized what it was – strange-looking pictures and monitors, some unknown language captioning everything. Images of her and Fitz and the rest of the team, images of the Academy and the bus, blueprints of the Playground, what appeared to be the hierarchical structure of S.H.I.E.L.D., bits and pieces of what she remembered learning about different countries and governments, all sorts of biological and neurological output reflecting the key components of human physiology, everything – everything someone would need to know to conquer S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe even ultimately conquer the human race. 

Two…individuals, blue-skinned and odd-looking, entered the room. Jemma looked at them, speechless with fear and confusion.

They looked at each other, and began speaking in broken English, like they were still trying to figure out how it was supposed to sound. 

“We won’t get any more from her.”

The other one made an affirmative sound. “And the images keep failing, allowing her to break through them.”

“Time to end the procedure.”

One came closer to her, and Jemma braced herself in preparation of a fight. She wasn’t going to let them _end_ her so easily. But then he simply pressed a button; Jemma felt a cool surge of something in her leg, and she looked down to see a liquid streaming from a tube into the IV in her leg. She felt light-headed for a moment and then nothing.

The next thing she knew, she was cowering in the corner of the little compartment next to the rock. She jumped to her feet, immediately reaching for the door only to discover it was secured with about eight different locks. She looked through the box at the room she could almost remember being in so long ago, but it was different now – all sorts of monitors set up, discarded food wrappers and empty cups on every surface, cardigans draped forgotten across every piece of furniture, all of it was so reminiscent of Fitz’ dorm room at the Academy. It was then she noticed that one of the monitors was going haywire, sending out a screeching alarm. Jemma chose to add to the alert before the damn rock sucked her up again. Screaming and yelling at the top of her lungs, she pounded her fists against the door.

Only moments later, Fitz came into sight through the window to the room. He stared at her briefly in shock and confusion, and then he moved again. He reached for the door to the room, stumbling through it and racing to the container. He fumbled with the locks, unable to focus on them clearly because he couldn’t stop looking at her. Jemma nodded in encouragement, urging him on, hoping he’d move faster and get her the _hell_ out of there.

Suddenly, Mack was there, shouting at Fitz to get out of the way. In the end, he had to push Fitz away, sending him reeling from the box to a safe distance. Jemma nearly cried, worried that they’d force her to say in there for some reason. Worried that the rock was just biding its time until it could get to more victims.

And then Mack swung an axe again and again, cutting through each of the locks. Finally, the door opened, and Jemma stumbled through it, falling to the ground.

Fitz reached out, pulled her to her feet and into a painfully tight embrace.

“Jemma!”

The feel of his arms holding her, the sound of her name on his lips – it all felt so familiar, so comforting, everything she had been wishing for and everything – everything the Kree had given her again and again, before they showed her what loving her did to him.

She pushed him away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t – don’t get close to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

In a way, it was almost like she had never been released from her nightmare prison. Here she was, sitting on another bed, being poked and prodded with needles, filled with antibiotics and all sorts of wonderful things, monitors hooked up _everywhere_ , beeping with the sounds of life. And people trying to get information, absolutely as much information as they could. Coulson and May took turns rattling off questions from the other side of the quarantine room, and Jemma tried to evade them as best as possible. Seeing as how she knew very little about where she was actually being held – she remembered quite a bit about the false lives they’d put in her brain, thank you very much, but she wasn’t planning on ever telling anyone about those – her responses were probably not particularly helpful.

And then Agent Weaver huffed, her breath steaming up the screen of her hood.

To be honest, Jemma felt the suit was unnecessary, almost insulting in a way. Fitz and Mack hadn’t needed all that protection when they pulled her out of the case, after all. 

“Out,” Weaver ordered firmly. “All of you, Jemma needs her rest.”

Coulson sighed and nodded, and then smiled supportively at Jemma. “Focus on recovering from – whatever you’ve been through. We’ll figure all that out later. It’s good to have you home, Jemma.”

She smiled, but she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She nodded at him, and he left, with May following closely. Jemma let out a breath, grateful that she didn’t have to perform for them anymore.

“Fitz, you too,” Weaver added.

Jemma met his eyes then, after she had been so diligent about avoiding them as much as she could. He looked like he planned to object, but Jemma hoped Weaver would be steadfast. The tenuous control she had over her emotions was starting to slip, and him being here…

“No.”

Jemma reeled when she realized that the objection had come from her, not Fitz. Her chin trembled, and she acknowledged that her heart might know better this time than her brain. “No, he can stay. Please let him stay.”

Weaver sighed and nodded. And minutes later, when she finished her exam and left them alone, Fitz stepped closer to the glass separating them. He put one hand against it, reminding her of so long ago when she had been infected with the Chitauri virus, of the time glass had separated them from 90 feet of water to safety, of just hours ago when she had returned from – wherever. Jemma began to wonder if some barrier would always be separating her and Fitz from happiness, literally or metaphorically.

“Is there anything you need?” Fitz asked. “Can I – do something?”

Jemma shook her head, sniffling a bit. “Just stay with me, please.”

He nodded, inhaling deeply. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he promised with a humorless little laugh.

“How – how long has it been?”

“Four and a half months,” he said. “One hundred forty days, to be exact. I can give that to you in hours and minutes, if you want.” 

Jemma’s heart thumped; she hadn’t realized it had been that long. She struggled to control the expression on her face, but she had a feeling she wasn’t being very successful. That suspicion was only confirmed when Fitz made a small noise, punched in the lock code, and entered the room.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Jemma protested, starting to cry.

“Too late, it’s done,” Fitz replied, as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to her.

Jemma closed the distance between them, clinging to him in a desperate hug and pressing her face into the dark groove of his neck. 

“I tried everything,” Fitz confessed, almost angry in his regret. “I couldn’t solve it by myself. I’m sorry, Jemma. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you out. I’m sorry I – it was my fault.”

Jemma shook her head.

“No, it was; I know it was. I shouldn’t have left you in there alone. I should have done something – ”

“I don’t care,” she interrupted, her tone making it clear she would brook no argument. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He paused, and Jemma could sense him wanting to disagree but not wanting to upset her further. “Well,” he finally said, as he softly ran one hand down her arm. “I still owe you dinner, at least.”

Jemma froze. All she could see was Fitz – bloody, broken, lifeless. 

“Yes,” she forced out. “The whole group can go out. It will be fun.”

He pulled far enough back to meet her eyes. His expression was uncertain, curious, and more than a little hurt. She tried to maintain some sort of innocent friendly excitement in her own. He nodded then, dropping her gaze and swallowing thickly.

“Right. OK,” he finally said, and Jemma’s heart broke at the disappointment he couldn’t mask.

She pasted on a smile and pulled him into another hug so he couldn’t see the guilt in her eyes.

If she was going to feel guilty anyway, she’d rather it be for destroying whatever hope he had clung to while she had been missing than for getting him killed again.

**

She couldn’t avoid Coulson for long, of course. Whatever the Kree planned to do with the information they stole from her, he needed to be warned and ready. So, after 48 hours had passed with no apparent side effects or concerns, Weaver released her from quarantine and she went straight to Coulson’s office. He waved her in, and she sat down and just began to talk, desperate to get it all out with no interruption so she could forget it and move on.

“I don’t remember much,” she informed him quickly and firmly. “But I remember…computer screens, sort of. Just – everything I ever knew about S.H.I.E.L.D., about Earth, about humans, flashing across their technology. I don’t know what they’re going to do with it, but I can’t imagine it will be anything good. I’m sorry, sir. There was nothing I could do. They just took it from me. That’s all I remember.”

Before Coulson could say anything, she stood up and left the room. She hurried straight to the lab, seeking comfort in science. But Fitz was in there, smiling at Mack as he fiddled with some piece of tech. Jemma kept walking, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. 

They took everything from her.

**

Days passed. Weeks, even. And Jemma felt herself drifting farther and farther away, shutting down, putting up walls again, becoming focused solely on science and emotionally inept and all the things he used to balance out in her. She sat quietly much of the time, mourning everything she lost and afraid to figure out what came next. Her heart broke over and over again whenever she caught Fitz looking at her in worry and regret and, worst of all, longing.

Things became awkward between them, more awkward than even right after she came back from Hydra, which she hadn’t believed possible. But she knew he knew she was keeping something from him, holding back. Whenever he seemed like he was finally going to say something, going to ask, she’d change the subject or even come up with an excuse to leave the room. Fitz started stuttering again, losing his composure and confidence around her more and more. Jemma wanted to scream.

She wanted to kiss him and hug him and tell him everything would be fine in the end. She wanted, after all they had been through, to simply love him. 

She wanted him to live more. 

Because they didn’t get it wrong. They didn’t make it up. If there was one thing that Jemma knew with every fiber of her being, it was that Fitz loved her enough to die for her. And if there was one thing that was proven to her repeatedly, it was that she was bad for him. As Mack said once so long ago, she made him worse. And when she was around, he got sloppy and he got reckless. Sometimes it was out of despair at feeling like his love was one-sided. Sometimes he just wanted to prove himself or even show off. Always, he was willing to do anything to make sure she survived at all costs, even if the cost was his own life.

Jemma couldn’t live with the fear that one day he might actually succeed. 

Her first time back in the field after the rock, he almost did. Jemma felt paralyzed as she watched him through yet another glass window from the hall outside the infirmary. He was sleeping now, helped along by some truly effective painkillers, and should be up and about by the next morning. But she could still hear him scream as he took the blow meant for her. She could still see his pale face as she and Weaver set the bones in his arm and he muttered “same damn place again.” She could still feel her hands shaking as she finished her work and looked him in the eye and saw only love and pride and a clear touch of hope for some sort of physical gratitude. Certainly no regret, no promise to never do it again. 

She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling sick to her stomach. She barely noticed Skye walk up and lean against the wall next to her.

“He’s such a doofus,” Skye observed.

Jemma forced a weak smile. “Didn’t even pass his field assessment, but still thinks he’s a superhero.”

Skye inhaled. “I think it’s just instinct, you know? His default state: protect Simmons.”

Jemma bit her lip, blinking rapidly. “I’m so tired of it all,” she confessed in a whisper. “I’m so tired of – of danger and fear and fighting and betrayal and losing him over and over and over. All I wanted was to do science with my best friend. That’s it. I never wanted any of this.”

Skye was quiet for a long time, but thankfully continued to watch Fitz rather than look at her. Finally, she said, “But there are good things too. There could be even better ones if you just admitted – ”

“There’s nothing to admit,” Jemma interrupted. “And nothing good can come of any of this. I just want things to be how they used to.”

“Well,” Skye replied, attempting to sound comforting despite pointing out the hard truth Jemma didn’t want to confront, “we can’t go back. All we can do is process the changes and move on. We’re different now, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Skye spoke the last sentence in a significant tone, but Jemma didn’t care to ask what she meant by it. And she didn’t want to process anything. She wanted to forget and ignore. It was the only way that got her through things like this. It was what she always did. Forget and – 

She could forget. She could forget everything, and never put him in danger again. 

Jemma forced a nod and smile, pretending to agree with Skye and hoping she’d leave soon so Jemma could put her suddenly clear plan into action.

**

It was very, very early in the morning, and Jemma finally had everything ready. But she couldn’t do it without saying goodbye, even if he wouldn’t remember. So she snuck back to the infirmary and sat next to his bed for a long time, brushing her thumb across his hairline. Finally, she couldn’t delay any longer, and she leaned forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. Of course it was then that he stirred and woke.

“Jemma?” His voice was little more than a croak.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “Everything’s fine.”

“What happened?”

“You broke your arm, you silly man.”

He nodded, closing his eyes as he swallowed. “Guy with the pipe.”

“Yes, and that was very foolish of you, stepping in the way like that.”

“Better my arm than your head,” he disagreed.

“How do you feel?” Jemma asked, changing the subject.

“Sore.”

She smiled and nodded, wondering if she had really expected a different answer.

“Happy you’re OK,” he added, and her smile fell.

“Fitz,” she began, not sure what to say next.

“I love you, Jemma. I know you don’t want me to, and I know you don’t feel – ”

She interrupted him with another kiss, this one to the lips. “I do still love you, Fitz,” she confessed once she’d pulled away. “I love you more than anything.”

His eyes were still closed when she sat up, but a smile made his face shine. “Is this a dream?”

Jemma laughed sharply in surprise, then immediately sniffed. “Yes, Fitz. It’s a dream.”

“No, it’s not,” he disagreed, smiling wider as he opened his eyes and looked at her.

She shrugged, reaching out to adjust his IV drip. “Doesn’t matter anyway. You’re so drugged up, you won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

Neither of us will, she thought, even as he said, “Could never forget.”

She didn’t bother responding. His eyes had already closed again anyway, and moments later, he was asleep. 

“I’m so in love with you, Fitz,” she whispered. “And I’m doing this for you. I hope you can accept that someday.”

She left the room then, walking back to where she had spent the previous hours calculating settings and then preparing a program to disable the machine when the procedure was over, insidious enough so that it should take even Skye and Fitz a long time to fix. She grabbed the control tablet, climbed onto the table and leaned back, twisting her head to avoid the equipment. And then she lifted the tablet, tilting her chin and squinting a bit so she could find the button she needed to press.

Jemma inhaled deeply, settling herself on top of the hard surface. And then she pressed the screen.

**

Fitz was in the middle of a pleasing but vague dream. It involved Jemma somehow, he was pretty sure, because most of his dreams did, and he thought she might have kissed him and told him she loved him, which was how he knew it was a dream. He didn’t have the luxury of chasing more details though, as a commotion woke him abruptly. He sat up, and then immediately yelled out at the resulting pain in his arm.

Right. Broken arm. Infirmary. No Jemma.

Except Jemma was there, but not in a good way. Fitz rolled quickly off the bed, barely noticing as he pulled his IV out. Instead, he hurried over to the other bed, where Coulson and Hunter had just deposited an unconscious Jemma. Weaver was bending over her, checking vitals, and Skye hovered to the side, looking worried. 

“What’s going on? What happened?” Fitz asked – nearly shouted, really.

Coulson glanced over his shoulder, then back at Jemma again. “We found her in the memory machine.”

Fitz was speechless for a long moment, and the only thing he could register was a loud buzzing in his head. “What?” he finally managed to say.

“Skye, get him a tablet. Fitz, see if you can figure out what she’s done.”

“You think – you think she did this to herself?”

“No sign otherwise, mate,” Hunter observed, his voice apologetic. “Mack and Bobbi are checking the footage now to be sure.”

Fitz looked questioningly at Skye, wanting some sort of explanation, needing someone to make sense of this for him. Instead she just leaned over to the side bench and grabbed the tablet sitting on it. She held it out, and Fitz stared at it for a beat before grabbing it. He punched in the commands to bring up the program, remembering the weeks he and Jemma had spent trying to figure out how the machine worked. He never thought it would be used like this.

He blinked at the screen, still not fully comprehending or accepting. But the time stamp bore Jemma’s name, and he recognized her particular style of coding. She’d even annotated it with instructions about what they were supposed to do with her when she woke up.

“She wasn’t trying to uncover memories. She – she wiped them out.”

“Wiped out what?” Coulson demanded. “The…Kree rock, or, or, or what?”

Fitz swallowed. “The last twelve years.”

No one said anything, and Fitz felt the tablet fall out of his numb fingers and crash to the floor at his feet.

**

“Obviously, the heads of the lab are totally willing to work with you to get you up to speed and fill in as many missing blanks as they can. Even missing more than a decade, you’re still smarter than the majority of the staff scientists already.”

Jemma laughed, fighting a blush at the compliment. She was still struggling to get her bearings really, and even though she had been told she’d been a brilliant and accomplished scientist for S.H.I.E.L.D. (a secret organization devoted to protecting the world, apparently), she still felt like a 17 year old only a few weeks from defending her second dissertation. The _incident_ – what everyone vaguely called the event that had taken the last decade-plus from her – had obviously thrown her for quite the loop.

She was very grateful to Maria Hill, who was the first person she had seen when she woke up in the hospital, who had explained to her about the _incident_ and the amnesia and had patted her shoulder awkwardly as she cried in shock and loss, who had basically adopted her and was now showing her around her new home at Stark Industries. She wondered sometimes where her family was, why none of the few acquaintances she remembered or the ones she surely must have made during those missing years were around, how exactly she had ended up with a healthy bank account and a cute little flat and a slip of paper with a phone number and the message “call when you’re ready.”

Ready for what, she didn’t know, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t. 

They stopped at an empty bench, and it took Jemma a moment to realize this must be her new workspace. She turned to face Maria.

“Thank you so much. For everything.”

Maria smiled and reached a hand out, gently cupping Jemma’s shoulder. “Of course,” she said. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Jemma nodded, fighting the desperate urge to beg her to stay. She didn’t, obviously, and soon Jemma was alone, looking around the room at the other Stark Industries employees. Most of them were doing rather simplistic, rote tasks that Jemma had mastered by the time she was 12. And none of them looked particularly interesting. Jemma sighed and looked down. She pulled the box of gloves closer and removed a pair.

**

Skye and May stood shoulder-to-shoulder, staring into the lab at Fitz, who was oblivious to their concern. He’d been oblivious to pretty much everything, especially after his cast had come off and he had been able to throw himself back into his work. After that, he had become almost robotic in the lab and increasingly reckless in the field. Skye was relieved to know she wasn’t the only one worried about him. Sometimes she still felt like it was him and her against the others, like no one else truly understood what it meant to be hurting and feel alone and convinced it would never get better, feel like you had lost the family you’d loved and the people who mattered most. She reminded herself, though, that wasn’t the case, and May especially, for all that she hid herself from the team, knew exactly how she felt and how Fitz was feeling now.

“We have to _do_ something,” Skye observed. 

May nodded. 

“I don’t know what, though.”

“Me neither.”

They both watched him a few more minutes, then Skye sighed. “I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“I’ll talk to Coulson.” 

They went their separate ways without a second glance. Skye pushed the door open, walked up to Fitz’ table and stood there while he pretended not to notice her.

“What are you working on?” she said once the silence became too much to bear. 

“Thing for Coulson,” he muttered, not looking up.

Skye smiled briefly and not very sincerely. “Obviously. What is it?”

“What do you want, Skye?”

“Just making conversation.”

He finally looked up at her. “Just checking up on me, you mean. Just making sure I haven’t lost my mind again.”

“No!”

He sighed, lifting one hand to scratch at his eyebrow. “I’m sorry. That was – I didn’t mean that.”

Skye swallowed. She waited a beat, then asked, “So how are you then?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Skye, please.”

“There’s no rule saying you can’t just go see her.”

“She won’t remember me,” Fitz reminded her. Skye was just grateful he didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know who she was talking about. 

“You don’t know that,” she pointed out with an optimistic shrug of her shoulders. “Coulson and the others got at least some of their memories back. I don’t think that contraption works, really.”

“Jemma would have known the op – optimal settings. She doesn’t want to remember.”

“The Kree rock, maybe. The bad things that – ”

The piece of tech broke into pieces as Fitz fumbled it, and he slammed his hands down on the table. He looked directly at Skye, and she winced at the expression on his face. “No,” he said. “If she – if – if… She didn’t just wipe out last summer, or last year at Hydra, or the stuff with Ward. She wiped out the entire time she knew me. She doesn’t want to remember _me_.”

“She _loves_ you,” Skye argued. 

Fitz shook his head. “Skye, I understand what you’re trying to do. I guess I even appreciate it. But you know that saying, if you love someone, let them go?”

Skye nodded miserably.

“Well, that’s what I’m going to do. Because she seems to think it’s if you love someone, leave them, and I’m not going through that again.”

Skye looked off to the side for a moment, accepting she wasn’t going to accomplish anything during this conversation. She shook her head, then walked away. Before she left the lab, though, she looked back at him. Time for tough love.

“Well, you better come up with some solution then, because you’re certainly not getting over her, and pretty soon you’re going to get yourself or someone else killed.”

**

She dreamed sometimes of a lonely boy with blue eyes and a talented brain and, best of all, a big heart. She dreamed of the grumpy man he grew into, a man with sad eyes and a muddled brain and, worst of all, a broken heart. She dreamed of laughter and bickering and dodging each other in a too-tiny lab. She dreamed of tea and telly and talking until the early hours of the morning. She dreamed of fighting her way back to him, only to never quite remember the details once she woke. She’d lie there in the darkness of her room, unable to grasp onto who he was or why she wanted him so badly or why he wasn’t there.

She went to work day after day, where she moved ahead by leaps and bounds as her brain found the necessary work-arounds and the hidden-but-still-there information she needed. She went home alone every night, where she stared at the phone number, the slip of paper folded over and over until it was creased and soft, and she wondered why her brain stubbornly kept her memories locked from her. She wondered whose number it was and if she’d ever be ready to call it. She wondered if it would be _him_ , that person she couldn’t quite remember and couldn’t quite let go, on the other end.

She kept to herself mostly, except when Maria or Pepper Potts wouldn’t let her. They’d take her for lunch some days, or call her up for shopping on the weekend. She was introduced to Tony Stark once and nearly died, desperate to tell…someone about it. Maria and Pepper talked love lives one late night over drinks and that time, she nearly died of embarrassment, feeling far too much like the virgin she hoped she no longer was. They seemed too deliberate during that conversation though, prodding her over and over again as if the right too-personal question or enough drinks would knock something loose. She had sort of hoped it might, but the more they talked about sex, the further the memories of _him_ seemed to fade.

**

“I’ve – well, the anonymous director of S.H.I.E.L.D. – has agreed to his request,” Coulson continued, ignoring Fitz’ pale face and angry eyes. “He’ll need you there ASAP, so pack your bags.”

“No.”

Coulson looked up surprised. “Excuse me?”

“No, I’m not going.”

“You’re refusing a direct order? To work one-on-one with Tony Stark?”

“That’s not why you’re sending me. I can’t – I won’t – ”

“Pack your bags, Agent Fitz.”

He glared, looked like he was about to say more, thought better of it, and stomped away. Coulson sighed and looked over to May, still standing silently in the corner. 

“I hope you two are right about this,” he warned.

**

Fitz was still trying to recover, really. He had been so terrified about seeing Jemma again, worried that she’d look right past him and perhaps even more worried that she remembered him but still wanted nothing to do with him for some reason he never had figured out. It was all he thought about, and he actually forgot to be terrified about meeting Tony Stark.

Tony Stark. 

Even before he became Iron Man, he had been one of Fitz’ heroes. And now…Fitz shook his head. He was still a little flushed from the excitement and the embarrassment, and he knew he had made a total fool of himself as he stuttered his way through their introductory conversation. Stark probably thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was messing with him, sending over someone so incompetent. Of course, considering the relatively minor project he was supposedly consulting on, Fitz was still convinced that particular artifice had been thrown together fairly loosely.

Fitz shook his head and put the encounter out of his mind. What was done was done. The important part now was getting his consultation done too, so he could get the hell out of there before…

He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he entered the staff dining room. “Jemma,” he whispered.

Every other concern slipped out of his brain. She was as beautiful as ever. He watched for a long, torturous moment as she chatted with Maria Hill and Pepper Potts at the table in the corner. She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and ending whatever she had just said with a wide grin. 

“Hey, buddy, stop blocking the door.”

Fitz jumped and moved quickly to the side with a mumbled apology. He looked up at Jemma again, and then quickly away when they made eye contact. He hurried over to the coffee counter, trying to act normal.

There had been no recognition in her eyes.

**

“Jemma,” Pepper interrupted in a sly tone. “Don’t look now, but there’s a guy over there staring at you.”

Of course Jemma looked, her eyes immediately catching shocking – and shocked – blue ones. She couldn’t stop her smile when the man in question pretended he hadn’t been looking, then nearly tripped as he continued to walk into the room. She wasn’t used to people being attracted to her. Not that – that probably wasn’t why he was looking. Even if it was, she certainly wasn’t going to do anything about it. 

“He is adorable. You should go talk to him,” Maria suggested.

“Oh! No, I…No.”

“Why not?” Pepper asked.

“I just – I’m not looking for anything of that sort right now. I have enough to worry about.”

“No one’s saying marry him,” Maria pointed out. “Just say hi.”

“He’s an engineer Tony brought in for a consult, anyway. Won’t be around long, so if things don’t work out, then no big deal. And he’s not a real employee so you don’t have to worry about professionalism!”

“Please, just – let it go.”

Her friends both made a show of surrendering the topic, but Jemma herself couldn’t let it go. And two hours after lunch, she was still thinking about those eyes, and the way he had stared at her so intensely. Just to herself, she could admit that he was cute. She could admit that she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. And she couldn’t shake the suspicion that maybe she already did. Because there was something ever so slightly _off_ about his reaction to her. 

If he did know her, then it could be a major opportunity for her to learn some more of her past beyond the vague avoidance she still got from Maria and Pepper. And either way, maybe…maybe it could be a major opportunity for something more, too.

Not that she was really looking for anything like that.

Jemma nodded once in determination. Then she ripped off her gloves and headed out of the lab towards the engineering department. He was leaning over a bench in the back, working intently. Jemma marched over before she could stop herself.

“Hello,” she said. 

The piece of tech fell out of his hands and clattered on the surface of the table, as he whirled and stared at her. His mouth gaped. Jemma blinked, and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart.

“Do you…I’m Jemma. Do you know me?”

He struggled for an answer, and Jemma shook her head quickly. “Sorry, that was – I know that sounds weird, but see, I have – ”

“Amnesia,” he interrupted, practically in a whisper. “Yes, I know you.”

“You do?!”

“Yes. And I – I don’t know if I should have said that. I don’t know what will make things b – better and what will make them worse. I don’t know if you’d want me to say anything, or if anything I say could…jog your memory anyway. But I won’t lie to you, and I won’t pretend I don’t – I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”

It was Jemma’s turn to gape. She didn’t know how to respond. He turned away, seeming angry and frustrated. Jemma reached a hand out, almost mindlessly, and touched his arm. He faced her again with a distressed expression.

“You don’t know me?” he asked, voice rough. 

Jemma shook her head apologetically. He nodded, dropping his gaze as he blinked rapidly. 

“But… I think I’d like to get to know you.” His head darted up. Jemma almost laughed at the surprised hope on his face. “If that’s OK,” she added.

“Yeah! Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’d like that.”

She held her hand out. “I’m Jemma,” she repeated. 

“Fitz,” he responded, taking her hand after a short pause and shaking it firmly. 

She was pretty sure her smile could best be described as radiant. Judging by the way he was looking back at her, he was blinded by it, at least. She told herself the thrill she felt was only due to the prospect of learning more about her past, and not at all related to the way his hand – still grasping hers – felt against her skin.

**

“ _How_ do you know me?” Jemma asked, as he walked her from work to her nearby flat later that evening.

He hesitated, avoiding her questioning gaze.

“You said you wouldn’t lie,” she reminded him.

“I won’t,” he confirmed, finally looking at her. “It’s just – I’m not exactly an unbiased party in the matter. I don’t want to...gui – guide you one way or the other.”

“All right,” Jemma replied, feeling frustrated. “I guess I can understand that, although it raises about a hundred more questions for me. But maybe it is best I try to remember things by myself. What _will_ you answer for me?”

He thought for a while, and didn’t actually say anything until she was leading him up the stairs of her building. “I’ll – anything from your life that I can, but not about what happened to you, because – I don’t know the answers for that, not really.”

Jemma nodded slowly, thinking as she dropped her keys and bag on the counter and disappeared into her bedroom to change. “What about questions about you?” she called out.

There was a very long pause, and she grinned. 

“I can refuse to answer.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed, fluffing her hair out behind her as she walked back into the living room. She smiled when he went all heart-eyed at her again. She was starting to get an idea of just how biased a party he was about their relationship history. “Dinner?”

She backed off a bit in her questioning while they ate, choosing instead to smile to herself as he told her about growing up in Scotland and his mom, who he so clearly loved. She was excited to get a few stories about the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, and she pieced together that they must have known each other then. She wondered if they had seen each other since, if maybe they had been sweethearts there. If maybe, as the arousal that tingled through her body every time he looked at her suggested, he had been the one she lost her virginity to. If maybe he wanted to be the one she lost it to again. Honestly, it was very difficult to try to trick him into telling her more about her past when all she wanted to do was swipe their food off the table and have her wicked way with him right there in the restaurant. She couldn’t ever remember being this drawn to someone – not that that meant a lot since she couldn't remember much of anything – and she was rather annoyed with herself at her lack of focus on what should have been her main priorities.

But, God, the way he looked at her. Like he had seen a ghost and an angel at the same time. It was intoxicating.

**

“My turn to ask one,” Jemma said, pausing and thinking a while, trying to determine the least offensive way to ask. “Are you – is there – you seem – ” She sighed loudly.

Fitz shot her something of a knowing smirk. “You sound like me, trying to find the right words.”

Jemma smiled, inhaling as she looked away. “Yes, well. About that…”

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet. They walked quietly for a few moments, and then he spoke. “A little over a year ago, I was in a…crash, of sorts. There was some br – brain damage. I’m – a lot better than I was but still sometimes…” He shrugged. “So, we have a lot in common, actually. I know what it feels like when your brain doesn’t do what you want it to.”

Jemma reached a hand out and hooked it around his elbow. They stopped walking and stared at each other as the world seemed to pass around them.

“I’m so glad you’re OK,” she said softly. A second later, she laughed self-deprecatingly. “I’m sorry, that sounds condescending. I don’t even know you. I mean – you know what I mean.”

His smile was pained. Then he turned and started walking again, but lifted his opposite hand and briefly placed it over her own, hinting that she should keep hold of his elbow. They didn’t speak again, though, not until they reached her flat. 

She walked up two steps, then turned to face him, again feeling a flash of heat as he looked up at her. Too soon, he cleared his throat and looked down. Moving carefully, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed hers, pointing their fingers up before intertwining them.

“You’re going to be OK, too,” he said. “Your brain just needs to…dig around and find the backup files.”

She shook her head even though she knew he was right. “My doctor said it could all come back tomorrow, or it might never come back. I’m just trying…well, I’m trying to forge a new life for myself, just in case.”

He almost seemed disappointed by that, but then he just smiled again. “Well, good night, Jemma. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She nodded, putting on her most encouraging smile and swaying a bit closer. And then it was her turn to feel disappointed, as he gave her hand a little squeeze, let it go, and walked away. She told herself there was absolutely no room in her life for the kinds of complications she wanted him to cause. She was in no place to start a relationship and she certainly was in no place to jump headlong into something with a person who might have particular expectations or hopes based on a history only he could remember. She still couldn’t explain how he had managed to set off so many butterflies in her stomach so fast, and now that he was out of sight, she realized that that was as scary as it was thrilling. 

Jemma breathed in deep, looked up at the sky, and then turned and walked up the rest of her stairs. She quickly opened the door and locked it behind her, leaning back against the surface and sliding to the ground. With her legs folded beneath her, she rocked her head back against the door with a small thump, and she giggled, allowing the 17-year-old girl she still felt like to react to what she would bet was the best first date she’d ever been on.

Damn it, she was in trouble.

**

Fitz cleared the corner of Jemma’s street before lifting one hand and scrubbing his face with a groan.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself.

So much for avoiding her. So much for holding onto his resentment. He was in such trouble. And if she ever did get back to how she was, and she realized how he had – well, essentially, taken advantage of her lack of memory…he’d definitely be in even more trouble. 

But truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because he was still feeling a bit breathless about the way she stared at him across the table, and his hand still tingled a bit where her palm had pressed against his own. Because he could never refuse her anything she had asked or wanted of him, not anything _real_ , anyway. Because even before his feelings for her had changed, he could never do anything but orbit around her and feel grateful for the chance.

**

A week later, when Jemma was eating lunch with Pepper and Maria, a now-familiar sensation of being watched came over her. She looked up, turned towards the table in the corner, and couldn’t stop her smile when she saw Fitz staring back at her. Then he winked quickly at her, and she came dangerously close to giggling.

She faced forward again, only to feel the blush spread across her cheeks when she noticed both women looking back at her with knowing expressions.

“You two have been spending an awful lot of time together,” Maria noted, _casually_ sipping her water. 

Jemma shook her head quickly. “No. No, not really.”

“Every night this week seems like an awful lot to me,” Pepper countered, fighting a smile. 

“I told you,” Jemma responded, dropping her voice to an embarrassed whisper, “we’re just – ”

Maria snorted. “Just friends, right. Hate to break it to you, but friends don’t look at each other like that.”

“Like…what?”

“Like you want to strip naked on the spot and do all sorts of naughty things to each other.”

Jemma blushed even redder, and she lifted a hand to her neck. Maria knew she didn’t remember any of the romances she assumed she _must_ have had, and so got entirely too much enjoyment out of making her flustered. 

“I think I’ll have to play Cupid and get Tony to come up with a few more tasks for him. Stretch out this consultation as long as we can,” Pepper conspired.

Jemma rolled her eyes, huffing. “Don’t you, as CEO of Stark Industries, have something better to do with your time than tease me about a crush?”

Pepper grinned. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

**

Fitz hummed in satisfaction as he put his plate on the bedside table and leaned back against the pillows. Jemma stretched out next to him, perhaps a _bit_ closer than she needed to be on the king-size bed in his suite. They were enjoying room service and new releases on Stark’s dime, and Jemma felt a sense of déjà vu whenever Fitz starting ranting about the inaccuracy of the random sci-fi blockbuster they were watching. They must have done stuff like this before. She just wished she could remember.

At her subsequent tiny sigh, Fitz tilted his head and looked down at her curiously. Jemma shrugged.

“I just…” She laughed shortly as she remembered the first few weeks after she had woken up. “I used to watch all the movies about amnesia I could find, wondering if I could get some sort of useful tip for getting my memories back.”

He didn’t answer for a while, and the only sounds in the room were the explosions coming from the TV. Finally, he grabbed the remote, turned it off, and rolled to face her.

“What do – do you remember _anything_?”

“I think…bits and pieces,” she confessed, something she had never even told Pepper and Maria. “I – I have dreams sometimes, but I don’t remember anything about them when I wake up. Just…flashes. Feelings. No details.”

“What kind of feelings? Fear? Are they, um, nightmares?”

“No,” Jemma responded quickly, shaking her head and feeling strangely hesitant about telling him. She realized she didn’t want to drive him away by making him think she was hung up on this mystery guy. But she wanted to tell him the truth too. “I feel… Happiness. Friendship. Um, love. There’s this one person over and over again, but I can’t see his face. I think…I think he must have been very special to me, and I don’t know what happened to him or why he wasn’t there when I woke up.”

Fitz’ face was distraught, and Jemma’s heart pounded as she waited for him to respond. Had she ruined everything growing between them?

“Maybe,” Fitz began, pausing to clear his throat. “Maybe he’s out there waiting for you. Hoping you come back to him.”

She flashed him a pained smile, then dropped eye contact. “I’m – I’m afraid he isn’t. Because I also – there’s just this feeling of total grief and, and, and I’m afraid he’s dead. I think I might have gotten him killed. Maybe whatever happened to cause my amnesia also – ”

“You don’t know that,” Fitz interrupted. “You shouldn’t think like that.”

She met his eyes again, her heart starting to race even more. “I’m also afraid he _is_ out there, waiting. Because…I’m not sure he’s the one I want anymore.”

Her meaning was more than clear, and Fitz stared at her for what felt like ages with a conflicted sort of longing in his eyes. And then he dropped his gaze to her lips, and Jemma licked them in response. She darted forward, pressing her mouth to his. 

He hesitated briefly and then kissed her back. Jemma arched her back, leaning in closer and grabbing hold of his arm to brace herself. She almost felt dizzy with relief that he – and then she was suddenly confused as he pulled back from her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to meet her eyes. “I – I’d prefer not to do…that. Not until you get your memories back.”

Jemma laughed so she didn’t cry. “Why?” she asked, forcing herself to sound as teasing as possible. “Are we bitter exes or something?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Not – not really, but – ”

“Fitz,” Jemma interrupted. “I told you I might never get my memories back. Are you saying you never want to kiss me?”

His eyes met hers and based on the expression in them, she knew that option was unbearable to him. Nonetheless, he still wavered, so Jemma moved slowly, narrowing the space between them. He never pulled back though, and when she was near enough for her eyes to finally fall shut, he was the one to close the distance between them and meet her lips. 

And then it was like some sort of dam broke, and he couldn’t hold back. She responded to his passion with her own, clinging to him tightly, wrapping her arms and legs around him fully. She broke the kiss, dropping her head back to gulp in air. She felt dazed as he sucked open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder, neck, throat, jaw, chin, everywhere he could reach, and finally ended up back at her lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and Jemma stroked it with her own. Her hips were rolling almost shamefully fast, the seam of her jeans creating delightful friction against her clit helped along by the hardening line of his cock trapped by his own clothes. Her heart soared and her body _sung_ with anticipation, driven by instinct or muscle memory of how to do this, how to be with a man, perhaps even how to be with _this_ man. 

The thought overwhelmed her, and she pulled away, lifting her hands to his cheeks and holding him just far enough back to make eye contact. Their movements slowed then, became more determined and deliberate. He shifted his weight to one elbow, sliding his free hand up to bury it in her hair.

“I’ve…missed you,” he said.

Jemma smiled. She hesitated a moment, worried that asking what she desperately wanted to know would shatter this tentative new beginning. And then she asked anyway. 

“How long?” His expression was confused, and she was about to clarify when the next rock of his hips hit her just right. She closed her eyes, and squeaked a bit as she exhaled. When she looked at him again, his eyes were even darker and hotter with lust, and she grinned. Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, she lifted her hips to meet his, trying to find that perfect spot again. “How long,” she continued breathlessly, “has it been since we’ve done this?”

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. He stopped moving immediately, and his face went almost scarily blank. He dropped her gaze, swallowed thickly and then rolled off her. Jemma felt unsteady, like she might float away without his weight holding her down, and her arms were entirely too empty without him in them. She twisted her head to watch as he covered his face with his hands and exhaled harsh pants that were too close to sobs for Jemma’s comfort.

“We didn’t – ” he finally choked out, still not looking at her. “We never – and we can’t start now, not like this.”

“Never?” Jemma whispered. The only response she received was a negative twitch of his head. “That doesn’t feel right,” she disagreed.

Fitz shrugged, dropping his hands and finally looking at her. “We were just friends,” he confirmed. 

“Huh,” Jemma observed. “I could have sworn we were…more than that.” 

She couldn’t even begin to argue against his claim that they shouldn’t start now, though. She had barely finished her last statement when he paled and his expression turned sickly. He rolled off the bed and headed straight for the suite’s bathroom. The door closed behind him with a near-slam, and Jemma sat up in shock, uncertain as to what had just happened.

“Fitz?”

“Jemma, can you just – can you please leave?”

Jemma was speechless for a moment, and then she nearly tripped as she hurried off the bed and to the bathroom door. 

“Fitz, we should – ”

“Please, Jemma.” His voice was broken, and she blinked back sudden tears. 

“Yes, all right,” she agreed meekly. 

She looked around, feeling lost, and then she took two large steps towards the desk to grab her purse before running from the room. She didn’t know what she had done wrong, but she was terrified she had ruined everything.

**

That fear was allayed almost immediately the next morning, when he came into her lab and walked up to her.

“I’m sorry I – ”

“Fitz, I don’t know – ”

“ – should have just – ”

“ – putting you in such an awful spot and – ”

“ – trying to do the right thing but I just – ”

“ – totally understand if you don’t – ”

“ – try again?”

“What?” Jemma asked, eyes wide and heart pounding. It was the strangest, most overlapping conversation she’d ever had, but she was pretty sure he just – 

“Can we try again?” Fitz repeated.

“Try…what?” Jemma asked, wanting to be certain. “Our friendship or…?”

Fitz swallowed. His eyes darted around the room to make sure none of the other scientists were listening in. They were all working, ignoring the little drama unfolding at Jemma’s bench, but he lowered his voice anyway. His next statements were smooth and urgent, as if he’d practiced them over and over and now needed to get them out before he lost them. 

“I thought that as long as you didn’t remember me, we could never really be anything. I thought that I could use this time together to get you back to the way you were, which is stupid. It’s stupid because when the situations were reversed, and I was the one who had lost myself, I was so angry with you for not being able to accept how I’d changed. But I think – I’m pretty sure you eventually did, and the truth is, it doesn’t matter to me who you are now. I love every version of you.”

Jemma’s mouth gaped open, and she stared at him, seeking some way to respond. He smiled in embarrassment and ducked his head. “You probably aren’t ready to hear that. I know for you it’s only been – ”

“I love you too,” she breathed out. “I – that sounds insane. But I do. The old me must have loved you, I don’t see how she couldn’t, but the new me definitely does.”

Fitz grinned, leaning back slightly as he exhaled in relief. “You know what sounds insane? I would…mourn you now, even if I got you back.”

Jemma laughed. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I know,” Fitz agreed, nodding in amusement. “But it’s true. Memories or no memories, I need you in my life. Will you – will – will you – ” He sighed loudly as his vocabulary slipped away.

Jemma reached out and grabbed his hand. “Whatever it is, the answer is yes. If you’re OK with me never getting my memories back, then I am too. As long as we have each other.”

“Yes.”

Jemma smiled, shoulders dropping as the tension flowed out of her body. She couldn’t quite believe the turn of events, but she wasn’t going to complain. But there was something else she needed to do, a final piece of closure. If she was going to accept that this might be her new future – years of memories missing but Fitz by her side – then she needed to close the door on the past once and for all.

“There’s something I need to do, Fitz. Can you come to my place tonight, for moral support?”

He seemed confused, but nodded. “Yes, of course.” He looked around the room then, blushing lightly as he seemed to realize again where they were. “But now I should go see Stark.”

“Right!” Jemma agreed, laughing. “Work!”

**

Jemma swallowed past the lump in her throat. She ran one sweaty palm down her jeans and tried not to notice how her hand shook. Fitz watched her from across the room, occasionally giving her little supportive nods. Finally he spoke.

“Jemma, what is – ?”

“When I woke up,” she blurted, “I only had one clue about my past, beyond the small amount of information Maria could tell me. It was a piece of paper with a phone number and a message that said ‘call when you’re ready.’”

His jaw dropped in utter surprise and confusion. “What?”

“Weird, right?” 

“And you haven’t called?”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what it meant to be ready. I think I was – afraid.”

“So…that’s why – you want to call it tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Jemma confessed. “Should I? Does that fit with what we decided this morning – that whether I get my memories back, it doesn’t change anything? It feels like I – ”

“For God’s sake, Jemma, I promise I won’t take it the wrong way. You should do what you think is right. But maybe it will give you some closure, or be the explanation you need or – ”

“You’re right,” she agreed, nodding. “No, you’re right. I _should_ call. I should.”

Fitz smiled at her encouragingly and Jemma bent forward to pick her phone up. She had saved the number weeks ago, when she was worried the paper would crumble after all the folding and re-folding. She found the contact, inhaled deeply, and pressed dial.

She tightened her grip on the phone nervously but still nearly dropped it when a ringing came from Fitz’ pocket. 

He jumped, stretching his leg out to reach in and pull his phone out. He stared at the screen for a long time, motionless. Then he dismissed the call, and Jemma heard the tinny recording of the voicemail service instructing her to leave a message.

“I don’t understand,” Jemma whispered. “Did you leave the paper with me?”

He shook his head, finally looking up from his phone. “No. No, it probably was – it must have been Skye.”

“Oh.” Jemma swallowed, not knowing who he meant but not focusing on that anyway. “So…you didn’t actually want me to call you?”

“No, I – “ Fitz paused, sighing. “When you – when it happened, at first I was so…angry. I pushed away any thought of... I didn’t think you wanted _me_.”

A puzzle piece seemed to fall into place. Jemma tilted her head. “It’s you. You’re the man I dream about.”

“Yes,” Fitz confirmed, his voice gravelly. 

“And…whatever happened to take away my memories, to separate us, it was something I had some sort of control over, a decision I made, or else you wouldn’t have thought that.”

Fitz gave her a sad shrug, his shoulders jerking up painfully until they were next to his ears and never quite dropping back down. He couldn’t look at her, and Jemma was filled with regret for whatever she had done to hurt him and make him so uncertain of her feelings. She could only hope it had been necessary. 

“I’m beginning to think,” she mused, “that if I could just remember you, that’d be the key to remembering everything.”

He finally made eye contact, and they stared at each other for far too long.

“I do have _one_ idea, but Jemma, it’s too dangerous. And I meant what I said. Memories or no memories – ”

“I meant it too, Fitz,” she promised. “But all things considered, I’d prefer the memories. I trust you, though, and I’m not afraid of danger. What’s your idea?”

**

Unsurprisingly, Stark no longer needed Fitz to consult and Jemma’s request for leave was approved as soon as they told him they had a plan to get Jemma’s memories back. After some teasing and a lot of hugs, Pepper and Maria saw them off. Jemma felt overwhelmed when they arrived at the secret base and she was surrounded by people who clearly knew her but were trying not to pressure her too much. She spent most of her time with Fitz, avoiding the somewhat needy concern of the others. Only Skye treated her fairly normally, and between the three of them, they worked to repair the damages and restore the code that would bring the machine to working order.

The night before they attempted the procedure she was still a little confused about, she and Fitz went to bed fairly early. The fact that she chose to share his room rather than take the offered one that she suspected was really her room anyway had led to more than one raised eyebrow. But she hadn’t wanted to be too far away from him, even though they had remained strangely chaste, as if they were waiting to see if this last-ditch attempt worked before they moved forward with their relationship. But that night, she didn’t want to simply sleep in each other’s arms. She still wasn’t sure why he thought this machine could do anything with her memories, but she knew one thing for sure – if it was as dangerous as he had warned and something even worse happened to her, she didn’t want to regret one single thing. 

“Fitz,” she said quietly as they went through their nightly routines.

“Hmm?”

Jemma inhaled deeply to brace herself, then stood up from the small desk. She rested her hands on the knot in the belt of the robe she had put on after changing earlier in the bathroom. She knew he assumed it covered her pajamas, but tonight it covered nothing. 

“Even if this doesn’t work tomorrow,” she continued breathlessly. “I still want to be with you, in every sense of the word. For always, starting tonight. If you don’t want to, I understand. I’m not trying to pressure you or force you into anything. I just…wanted that on the record.”

He stared at her for a long time, and a little red flush spread just below his throat and on the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat several times before finally speaking. “Jemma, it’s not that I don’t _want_ to. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

“Then…?”

He sighed. “My concern is that it _will_ work tomorrow and you’ll remember or realize that you _don’t_ want to be with me.”

“I can’t see that happening,” Jemma responded with a saucy smile, “but that’s even more reason to do it now when we both want it, don’t you think?”

He scoffed. “So you can hate me tomorrow for agreeing?”

Jemma shook her head and stepped closer. “Why are you so convinced I’ll hate you?”

“Because you left,” he blurted. She was shocked at the bitterness, and she realized she might finally be getting a full explanation for what had happened. “Because you did _this_ to yourself. You – you took your own memories away, you made yourself forget me, and I don’t know _why_.”

Jemma paled, unwilling to believe it despite how obviously honest he was being. “Maybe,” she whispered, “Maybe I did it _for_ you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t do it for me. You didn’t. You did it for yourself, because running away is the _only_ way you know how to cope. You did it because you pretend you’re too pr – practical and scientific to be bothered with emotions like the rest of us mere humans but really you just don’t understand feelings and you’re just too scared to face them and work through the tough times.”

He turned away as he stopped speaking, his shoulders shaking with heavy, unsteady breaths.

Jemma sniffed, blinking back tears. “Well, you’d know me better than I would, I guess. But if that’s true, then I regret it. I don’t care what I was running away from. I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

He sighed, looking at her again as his resentment seemed to fade. “I – I don’t want to always expect the worst from you.”

“Good,” Jemma replied, nodding. “You shouldn’t, because I love you. And if you can have faith in me, then I can be brave.”

“You’re my best friend; I trust you with my life. I’ll – I’ll try to trust you with my heart too.” He paused, then added, “Brave how?”

“May I kiss you?” she responded, almost as surprised by it as he was. “Can you trust me enough to spend the night together, no matter what the consequences are tomorrow, and I promise I’ll be brave and figure out those consequences with you, together?”

Fitz closed his eyes and exhaled. “Yes,” he finally whispered. “God, I’ve never been able to say no to you. Yes. Be with me tonight.”

They crashed into each other, meeting in the middle of the room in an ardent kiss. Within moments, Jemma’s robe was pushed off her shoulders and puddling to the floor. She grinned at Fitz’ response when he discovered her lack of clothing underneath it. They moved together slowly, intimately, and then suddenly with heated passion, with the familiar rhythm and pattern of the way they spoke and worked in Stark’s lab with each other, all give and take, push and pull, demanding and deferential, relying on a near-psychic understanding of what the other one needed before they did themselves. When a long wave of pleasure ultimately swept over Jemma, she dug her nails into his shoulders and cried out wordlessly. She collapsed, all the strength leaving her body.

Eventually, she caught her breath and remembered how to speak. “So, that’s what an orgasm feels like,” she observed.

To her surprise, Fitz began to laugh, his whole body shaking. “I’d like to pretend I’m the only person to ever give you one, but trust me, you’ve done that before.”

Jemma snickered. “I suspected. But for the next few hours, I’m going to choose to believe you were the only one.”

“OK,” Fitz agreed, a bit too smugly. She smacked his shoulder. 

“And we’d really never done that before? Because I think we were far too good at it for it to have been the first time.”

Fitz shook his head. “Our collaborations always produced impressive results, though,” he informed her in a tone dripping with innuendo. After a beat, he confessed in a softer voice, “I think we might have been heading down that road.”

“And I gave up the chance?!” Jemma asked incredulously. “No wonder you were so mad. I thought I was supposed to be smart.”

Fitz started laughing again, propping himself up onto his elbows and immediately drawing Jemma into a deep kiss.

**

The next morning, Jemma was writhing and screaming again – his name, God’s, random not-quite-words, and it was practically killing Fitz. She was begging for release, in fear and in pain, and Mack had to hold him back so he didn’t try to stop the procedure and rescue her from the machine. With him so distressed, Skye was the one who had to walk Jemma through her memories, crying herself at the fragmented answers Jemma managed to choke out.

Finally, it was over. Jemma stilled and the machine whirred down, and the only sounds in the room were Fitz’ heavy breathing and her quiet sobs. Eventually, she opened her eyes and immediately sought him out. Mack let him go, and Fitz rushed over to her. She sat up, twisting to avoid the tech above her head, and holding her arms out to him. He pulled her into a tight hug and buried his face in her neck.

“I remember,” she whispered, trembling. “I remember everything.”

Sometime later, they were back in his room, lying on the bed and facing each other. Every so often, Fitz would reach out and stroke his hand down her arm or along her side or rest it lightly on her hip. He couldn’t stop touching her, and he hoped she didn’t try to make him. Thankfully, she just kept scooching closer and closer as she tried to explain everything. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after she stopped talking and he realized she had told him as much as she was able to. “I’m sorry you went through that. I wish there was something I could have done.”

Jemma swallowed and briefly closed her eyes. “You can do something now – don’t die on me.”

“I will eventually,” he reminded her, the apology in his tone belied by the hint of sarcasm. “But I’ll take my chances that it will be many years from now. Either way, I’d rather be with you for a little while than never be with you and live forever.”

Jemma laughed, blinking back tears. “Me too.”

But, over the course of the next few weeks, he could tell something was still wrong. She wandered the Playground sometimes, or stared off into space when she was meant to be working in the lab. She zoned out during meetings and flinched at any reference to a possible return to the field.

Eventually, one night as he held her after they had made love, enjoying the sensation of the ceiling fan circulating air across their sweat-damp skin, he had to ask what was wrong. She didn’t answer for a long beat, and then she surprised him.

“Do you – feel like we still belong here?”

“I belong with you,” he replied immediately, before asking the important question. “Where do you feel like you belong?”

She sighed and rolled over in his arms so they faced each other. “I think…” she hesitated, then steeled herself when he nodded encouragingly. “I think that…I don’t want this anymore. I’ve seen enough of the world and we’ve both nearly died so many times over for the privilege.”

Fitz nodded. “OK. I only ever came into the field because that’s what you wanted.”

“You don’t think that’s running away? Giving up on our obligations and abandoning our friends out of – fear or something?”

He shook his head in reassurance. “No. And we can still see our friends and still do our part for the greater good, still protect the world.”

“How?”

“We ask Pepper for your job back and see if she’d hire me too.”

Jemma grinned at the obvious solution. “Yes! Yes, of course.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. All I’ve ever wanted was to do science with my best friend. And it will be even better if I get to go home with you at the end of the day too. I want our next adventure to be a life together.”

“You’re not scared?”

Jemma shook her head. “I’m ready,” she confirmed.

**

Fitz was still panting heavily as Jemma slowly raised herself off him and rolled to the side. She snuggled up against him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Three months now,” he managed to say, pausing to lick his lips, “and we’ve had sex…84 times, especially impressive considering February is a short month. I can give that to you in number of orgasms, yours or mine, if you want. Not to mention you’ve told me you love me at least twice that, and I’m still alive. I think we might be OK.”

He could _feel_ her roll her eyes. “You can stop counting at any time,” she muttered.

“I’m recording data, Jemma,” he argued smugly. “For science. My research question is: will loving Jemma Simmons kill me?”

“Mmm, what are your findings?”

“Inconclusive, better keep testing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read a truly awesome amnesia fic, be sure to check out bookishandbossy's [Lost and Found](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2119317/chapters/4624188). I mean, obviously you've already read it, but go read it again.


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